


you can't build from dust, it just falls apart

by BeforeDawn



Series: we were ruins from the start [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, I'm Sorry, Romance, This is just feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 01:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13776594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeforeDawn/pseuds/BeforeDawn
Summary: Robert's Rebellion changes everything and the world is turned upside down. As it turns out for Ned Stark and Catelyn Tully, the war does, in fact, change their entire worlds in different ways, but it doesn't change the heart.





	you can't build from dust, it just falls apart

Robb doesn’t seem to want to calm down.

Catelyn Tully paces the creaky wooden floor with her infant son, gently rubbing his back and murmuring comforts into his ear, hoping to calm him down, lest they are kicked out for making too much noise and ruining the atmosphere. This was not the life she had envisioned.

She was meant to marry Brandon Stark and become the Lady of Winterfell. She remembers the hours she’d spent learning to stitch the direwolf into every piece of cloth that she could find. But that life had fallen apart when Petyr had been caught with Lysa in the hallway, moaning Cat’s name as he rutted against her thigh. To any onlooker, it looked as though they were having sex - so the footman that discovered them went roaring through the castle about the Tully girl and the Baelish boy. But when they were summoned to Hoster Tully’s solar and the man was asked which sister he had seen with Petyr, he couldn’t say.

Cat had not known what had possessed her to step forward and lie to her father. Wanting to help Lysa was a part of it, but it seemed the words ‘ _Family. Duty. Honour’_ were etched so deep within her that she’d had no choice but to step forward, to protect her own.

Petyr had come to her that night, with hopeful eyes, he’d already been banished by her father, for shaming his daughter and ruining the good Tully name. “Run away with me Cat. We can be together now.” He’d told her, taking one of her hands in his. But when she looked at him, she could see the disappointed look on her father’s face that she would never forget, nor would she forget the heartbroken looks of Edmure and Lysa.  She’d thrown a vase at him and told him to get out, to never ever contact her or her sister again.

Her second visitor that night had been Uncle Bryden, appearing out of the shadows and telling her to come quickly. He did not want her to live in shame and so had decided to make a life for themselves on the road. She had not known that he had been anywhere near the castle, but he had appeared and took her with him, leaving a note for her father.

Her Uncle had only said one more thing to her that night, which she never will forget. She’d been trying to get warm by the fire, stretching her hands as close to it as she dared in hopes of trying to warm herself up. Uncle Bryden had sat next to her after tending to the horses, they’d already ridden for what seemed like hours to her, he’d handed her a piece of bread and looked her dead in the eye. “I know you lied.”

They’d never spoken of it again.

They rode together for some weeks before the attack came, travelling in the middle of the woods when bandits descended upon them from the trees. Her Uncle had slapped her horse’s backside and made it run before she’d even had the chance to scream, the last she saw of him was a cold look on his face as their attackers swung their swords towards him.

Catelyn had somehow ended up at the Vale, smuggled in on the back of a cabbage cart. After weeks of scraping together just enough money to eat, Aalya had found her and offered her a job at the brothel. She’d first just served drinks and swept up, but the girls managed to talk her into taking a man one night after they’d plied her with ale. She’d cried the whole time.

Eventually, things got easier and pleasuring a man had become as routine as getting ready. She’d not remember names nor faces as they entered and exited her bedroom, leaving only a purse of coin and an ache between her thighs as proof of their presence. Her life seemed to become dull and routine with faceless ghosts in the forms of men who haunted her every hour.

Until Ned Stark.

He’d been different from the start. Green and solemn-faced. He was not like the eager boys who came in thinking to have their fill but instead spilling their seed instead inside their pants before they’d even been touched in their excitement. But not Ned. He’d been more concerned about her pleasure than his and had genuinely taken an interest in her words as well as her body.

By the time she’d realised he was the brother of her former betrothed, she felt obligated not to say to him. She did not want to shatter the fragile little reality that they had created for themselves with the outside world. It seemed cruel almost, a whisper of a life that they could have lived. It seemed that one way or another, their paths were destined to intertwine. Once, she thought he’d figured it out after he’d rubbed the healing balm on her back and she’d foolishly spilt her whole story to him, feeling safe in the bubble he created. Though, she does not think he did as he came back a few nights later full of concern for her wounds.

Somewhere along the line, she’s not exactly sure when, perhaps when she missed him sourly on one of his visits to Winterfell or the all-encompassing joy she had felt upon his return, she’d stopped taking other men inside her. She’d discovered that a man was happy as long as his cock had something warm and wet wrapped around it, if he was in his cups enough, so she’d stopped allowing them in her cunt and took them in her mouth instead. It worked, for the most part.

Except for Ned, she didn’t want to admit it, but she’d loved him then.

When he’d left to fight a war that had changed his world, she found herself back in the hollow existence that she was in before she met him, but it was worse somehow. The war made men harsher in their ways and so little in their words, they were frightened. Mayhaps one could not tell on the battlefield, but in the dark of the night a man’s fears come to life and the ghosts are as real as she is. Her life had lost substance without Ned, she had no one to ground her now, remind her what it was to be seen by another person and not just looked at for the service which her body could provide. Cat had missed him with everything that she had and desperately hoped that he would not remain the broken man he was when she last saw him. Her days blurred together, and she almost felt as though she was drifting through the air. Until she discovered she was pregnant.

Catelyn had told no one the identity of her son’s father, insisting that she did not know, which was readily enough believed by everyone around her, hoping to save the honour of her son’s father which she knew meant so much to him and which she knew he would sacrifice for the sake of his son. She hoped to spare her sister the shame of a bastard too, for her sister deserved to find happiness and surely, she would find some with good, sweet Ned.

When the whispers of a Stark bastard came after the war, Cat had panicked, thinking that she’d been discovered. But the whispers were of another boy, safely tucked away under the same roof as his father. She’d tried not to feel bitter, both for the betrayal of her sister and that the other boy would have everything her son would not. _It’s not Ned’s fault,_ she reasons, _he does not know Robb exists_.

Really, what stings the most is the betrayal on herself, after he’d looked at her so earnestly and told her that he’d not bedded the Lady Ashara, only to once again bed her during the war. She’s aware that she has no right to judge him for his actions, she was a whore after all, but it turns out that love really does have no logic and the thought of it stings just the same.

Finally, Robb falls asleep, a heavyweight in her arms as she places him in the cradle next to her bed. The knock on the door startles her, for she cannot know who would intrude on her at this hour. She no longer took men, becoming more of a barkeep than a whore since her pregnancy and all the girls would not want to disturb her with a crying babe. With a glance at Robb to make sure he remains asleep, she opens it.

She may live in the brothel in the Eyrie, but she would still know Jon Arryn on sight.

Catelyn had no idea what he was doing here, she’d thought he was in King’s Landing serving as hand under the newly crowned Robert Baratheon.  He strides past her into the room, walking straight over to where Robb slept in his crib. She watches as he studies her infant son, so much like her in looks, yet sometimes in a certain light she was sure he resembled his father, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking on her part.

“Why are you here?” She questions, curious about the man’s sudden appearance and interest in Robb. What reason could Lord Jon Arryn have to storm into a brothel room to look at a babe? He briefly lifts his gaze to her before landing it back on her son, biting his bottom lip and furrowing his brows. “Is this the son of Ned Stark?”

Cat feels all the air leave her lungs, as the moment passes impossibly slow. Her mouth cannot form the words to confirm or deny his suspicions, she’s frozen. _How can he know?_ She wonders, _no one knows._

She briefly considers lying but knows that will be a fruitless effort. She’s been silent long enough that the man already knows the answer before she gives it, Lord Arryn is no fool and he is not a man easily lied to and she is not the best of liars to begin with, often priding herself on her honest nature. His eyes are trained on her face, flicking to Robb every now and again for a moment as he awaits her answer. Silently, she nods and watches as Lord Arryn closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. “Ned will want to know.”

Panic seizes her chest. “No!” She cries, feeling guilty as she does so. Yes, both son and father deserve to know that the other exists, but that in itself presented more problems than it solved. Ned had already presented one bastard to his wife, _her sister,_ which would have surely caused some strain within their marriage. If he brings home another then the two would surely have no chance at finding happiness and the two of them certainly deserved such a thing. Besides, she doesn’t even know if Ned will believe that the babe is his.

Lord Arryn regards her with curious eyes, clearly confused at such an outcry. She must explain it, she thinks, if he knows then he will surely understand, and she will make a good life for Robb here. “My name is Catelyn Tully, my Lord, and I shall not bring any more shame upon my sister than my goodbrother already has.”

 _Goodbrother_ , the word felt foreign in a sense. She’d never really thought of someone being her goodbrother, which is silly as her sister had been engaged to Brandon well before she’d married Ned, who was supposed to be her goodbrother before that. But he’d not even been a face then, just a fleeting thought in the life she once was to lead, the word felt extremely strange in using it to describe the man who’d shared her bed more times than she can count, simply because she never allowed herself to think of him as anything other than her Ned.

But he was hers no longer, she had Robb to protect now.

And oh, the ridicule her sweet babe would face if he ever was brought to Winterfell. She’s heard enough from the rumours to know that the Snow boy is the very image of his father, already clear from a young age. But if that son is the image of his father, then Robb is the image of Cat. The whispers would follow her boy around, son of a whore, they’d say, he’s no more Stark than I am a Lannister, the servants would whisper and giggle in darkened corners. But voices carry, and her son would eventually hear the voices that follow him around, so even if he was raised exactly like his Stark-looking brother, the two would never be the same. _No_ , Cat thinks, she will not allow that to happen to Robb.

Lord Arryn looks at her with wide eyes, trying to digest the information she’s just given him. She watches as his eyes scan her face and she can see as he makes the connection between herself and the Tully’s of Riverrun, for word has it that he was present for the wedding of Eddard Stark to Lysa Tully.

He frowns, glancing between her and Robb as he worries his lip again. _Trying to think_ , she muses, recognising the habit as something she does herself. The wheels seem to turn in his brain as he continues to glance between herself and her son, a plan formulating in his mind as he pulls the pieces of the puzzle together so that he can see the whole picture.

“He will be raised in the Eyrie.” Catelyn opens her mouth to protest, but Lord Arryn holds a hand up to silence her and, ever the dutiful girl, she does so. “He will be raised as my ward and be placed under the care of my castle and my servants while I serve the King as hand. You can serve as a maid and earn a respectable living doing so, taking no more men. When he is old enough, he can perhaps become a stable boy or even a knight. He will be raised right.”

She blinks up at him, now her turn to digest the information being given to her. “But my Lord, no one’s ward is a nameless bastard. People will whisper, say he is a son you will not acknowledge, I will not have you bare that shame.” His expression softens as she speaks and for the first time she sees the man Ned thought so fondly of as a second father, he steps forward and takes her hands in his. “My child, I have nothing left to lose.”

He looks so broken then and she remembers when Ned had come to her when the Rebellion was nothing but whispers in the wind. The life he proposed to her was better than any she could give him on her own and she finds herself nodding, a slow smile growing on her face.

And just like that, her new life had begun. The world shifts again.

* * *

 Lysa Tully Stark does not like her husband.

It’s clear to any onlooker that she clearly holds a great deal of contempt for her Lord Husband and even more for the boy who so recently started to toddle around after him.

Ned had hoped for, well in truth he’d had no idea what he had hoped for, but he had hoped that he would find friendship with his wife if nothing else. But it seems even that would not be present in his marriage, he had not been foolish enough to hope for love, knowing that his heart was tucked away in the Eyrie, but he had hoped that his wife would at least like him. No such luck, it would seem.

His only joy comes from Jon and he marvels at every little change that comes as he grows so quickly. However, this seems to make his wife dislike him even more. They have not yet had a child of their own, not being able to conceive after their failed attempt during the war – not that she allows him to bed her enough for a child to be made, once every few moons does not seem like an effort to make an heir to Ned. The horrible part of him that was glad seems to have died, as he now grieves for a son that would at least make his wife smile and someone to play with Jon, for the two would surely be thick as thieves, being so close in age.

Lysa never asks about the boy, not his origins or to send him elsewhere. Ned is glad of that because he would rather not explain things that he knows not how to explain, but it further proof that his marriage is hollow and there is little to no feeling between him and his wife.

He does not allow himself to think of her. Nor does he think of Lyanna and Brandon for the thought of them hurts too much and it’s the last time he can remember being truly happy, for now his heart is as frozen as the north and even his friendship with Robert stands on shaky ground after what he’d said about those poor babes.

 _Dragonspawn_ , Ned thinks of his friend’s horrid satisfaction as he watches Jon stack his wooden blocks.

He fears that Benjen will leave him shortly too, for the boy has spoken non-stop of the watch since Ned had returned home over a year ago. He can keep him here for now, but it will not be for much longer before his little brother declares himself a man grown and rides for the North - he fears that day just as much as he had feared the war.

Word from Jon Arryn comes so rarely and when it does the letters seem so vague. He has no idea if it is due to the gap that now exists between himself and Robert or if something during the war had changed the man for his losses had cut him deep. He’s heard strange whispers of a nameless bastard who’s become ward in the Eyrie and is treated like a little Lord even in Jon’s absence. They say its because he’s Jon’s son, but Ned pays the rumours no heed, knowing it’s more likely something the man is doing out of kindness for a stranger than everything else. Jon does not have a son, bastard or no, Ned would know of it.

Time passes in the blur it always does when nothing changes, Jon grows, and he watches as he does, Benjen talks more of the wall every day and has even begun to plan his journey for the coming weeks, Lysa gives him icy looks and the two share stilted conversations. Time passes, and it also does not, the dull colours of the north blend into his everyday life in a way that does not give him comfort as it did before. His wife’s hair blows in the wind as he shows her the little sept he had made for her to have a place for her Gods, in hopes of making his wife feel _anything_. But she simply nods her thanks and makes his way back to the great keep. He watches the red dance as she walks away and thinks that the colour does not light up the north the way he thought it would.

For a moment, her hair flashes a darker red and, for a moment, he allows his mind to drift to another life.

When the day comes that Benjen finally rides for the wall and Ned finds himself wishing that he could cry, that he could scream at his brother not to leave him. But it seems he is still as broken as he was when all of this began so all he can do is hug his brother goodbye and pray to the Gods that his brother will live to truly become a man.

* * *

 

Life in the Eyrie is not all good. Don’t get her wrong, she wouldn’t for a second trade this life for her old one, but the whispers still sting and she would like to grow thick enough skin so they do not hurt her, she would like for them not to hurt her son.

She was right about the whispers coming of Lord Arryn having a bastard, though there are some older women who work in the kitchens with her who know their Lord better than that and quickly shut any talk of such things down. But Robb still runs around and is doted on, even by those who think he is Jon Arryn’s bastard, everyone had so much respect for the man that they did not question it.

Cat finds being a maid much more pleasant than life in a brothel and with time the whispers of Whore dies out as she works hard and smiles politely at the other servants when they share their morning meal in the dingy room assigned to them. She does not have friends per say, just those who seem to tolerate the maid whose son receives gifts from the Lord himself, but she has Robb, and that is enough.

She is very grateful for the gifts sent by Lord Arryn, especially the cloth, for she feels she just finishes making and mending his clothes before they are already too small for him. Her son is beautiful and quick to make strangers smile with his easy-going personality and an adoring smile. At only two, he already watches the knights practice with rapt attention and Lord Yohn Royce ruffles his hair and tells him it’s nearly time for him to be a knight himself, but not quite yet. Catelyn never fails to laugh when her son puffs out his chest at that comment, setting his shoulders straight, trying to look like the man he not yet is.

She wishes to write to her Uncle, to let him know she is alright. But she does not know where he is and she can hardly send it to Riverrun lest a nosy maid finds it and lets it be known the Tully girl truly is a whore. She will find him, someday, but not now.

It’s a wonder to Cat how she can feel so much joy from her son, her constant companion and yet feel so alone at the same time. She is surrounded by people, by her almost friends and the comfort she finds in the letters sent by Lord Jon, whom she’s established a strange sort of friendship with, and still feel like the only person in the world when the candles burn out and the only sound is the soft breaths Robb takes in his sleep.

She closes her eyes and pictures grey ones.    

 

**Author's Note:**

> SO THERE'S MORE AND YOU BET YOUR ASS THERE'S GONNA BE ONE AFTER THIS
> 
> Also for those of you saying that Ned knows who Cat is, HE DOESN'T...yet. It's stated in the first fic that he never makes the connect between Cat and Catelyn Tully, don't mean someone else won't make it for him. 
> 
> Thanks for reading my dumpster fire that is this verse, come join me down the rabbit hole. Also follow me on Tumblr BeforeDawnMuses so you can bug me and ask me questions and prompts


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